Chapter 36. Explosive Final Spurt in the Debut Race
Because she had drawn the far outside gate, Mejiro Dober was the last to step forward.
Before she entered, Mejiro Ryan's voice rang out across the track, loud and unrestrained. "Go, Dober!" The shout carried warmth and pride—
(Fyi, Mejiro Ryan was Bright's and Dober's parent in real life.)
The call ignited the sidelines. Uma Musume from Team Spica and Team Rigil joined in, their voices overlapping, swelling into a tide of encouragement that chased her all the way to the starting stalls.
Just before she reached the gate, Dober heard them. She paused, turned her head—and as expected, found the source immediately. There was no surprise in her eyes, only quiet acknowledgment.
She raised a hand in reply. Then she turned back, quickening her pace toward the gate.
She had practiced this all week under Shuta An's guidance—entering the gate, steadying her breathing, settling her focus. But practice on a training track and stepping into the starting gate of a real race were worlds apart. The pressure here was suffocating. The moment she stepped inside, it felt as though every gaze in the world converged upon her.
She swallowed.
Steady.
Adjust your breathing.
Calm your heartbeat.
She forced herself to settle—then prepared for the start.
The next instant, the gates flew open in perfect unison.
Dober remembered her Trainer's instructions. Her break was clean—no hesitation, no stumble—but she did not explode forward. Instead of scrambling for position, she deliberately allowed AirSmap, who had started to her left, to slip ahead. Cutting inward, she settled into second-to-last, letting AirSmap cleave the wind for her while she conserved energy and waited.
The 1600-meter race at Tokyo Racecourse began at the far end of the straight opposite the grandstand. From the stands, the spectators could only follow the start through the massive screen in the infield.
As the gates opened, Shuta An's eyes locked onto that screen. After a second, he exhaled. "Looks like Dober broke cleanly."
Miss Ramonu, however, did not relax. "Isn't that acceleration a little inefficient?" Her tone was cool, exacting. "In a mile race, there's no room to relax. One mistake can cost everything."
"It's her debut," Miss Tojo interjected gently. "A little inexperience is only natural."
"It's fine," Shuta An added at once. "This was my instruction."
He did not hesitate to shoulder it. "I told her not to rush the acceleration. Stay behind AirSmap. Wait for the opportunity."
"A closer?" Miss Ramonu arched a brow. "When our family tested her, we judged Dober better suited to front-running."
"This is my call." Shuta An did not look away from the screen. By now, the leader—GailythePride—had already covered two hundred meters.
On the track, however, a complication emerged.
AirSmap suddenly accelerated, her intent unmistakable—she was going for the front.
Dober's slipstream vanished.
Her brows knit.
'Trainer hadn't covered this scenario.'
But she also knew she could not depend solely on pre-race instructions.
Adapt.
Stay calm.
Maintain cruising speed.
Think.
'Should I follow? I'm the only one in the closer group now. If AirSmap takes the lead, the nearest to me will be ShinkoEdward. If I hold position, there's still over three lengths between us. CarrollFight behind is dropping further—she's not a concern.'
Halfway down the opening straight, she made her choice.
Just like Oguri Cap-senpai once said—'I don't need to worry about my opponents. I just run my own rhythm.'
She did not chase.
She maintained her pace, as if AirSmap's move meant nothing at all.
"Is that really okay?" Mejiro Bailey's voice trembled with tension. "The opponent's already accelerating."
"The Twinkle Series doesn't judge mid-race positions," Mejiro Ryan replied, patting Bailey's head. "What matters is who crosses the finish line first. Being behind now doesn't matter."
"Actually, Dober's doing very well," Shuta An said, eyes never leaving the screen. "She didn't panic. She didn't waver. She stuck to the tactic I assigned her. Whatever happens in this debut, if there's responsibility to bear, I'll take it. Dober is fine."
Miss Ramonu glanced at him, then swallowed the words that had risen to her lips.
'If she loses, it's because she isn't strong enough.'
But she sensed the quiet protectiveness in his tone—and chose silence instead.
Approaching the bend, Dober noticed ShinkoEdward's speed dipping slightly.
'Was it genuine fatigue? Or simply the strain of centrifugal force?'
She didn't gamble. Without hesitation, she drifted outward a few steps, carving space for herself—ensuring she would not be boxed in should the opponent slow further.
"A wise move," Taiki Shuttle commented from the lounge, watching the live broadcast with keen satisfaction. "In a Mile, you anticipate. You don't wait until you're trapped. A slow Uma Musume can't win this distance."
At that very moment, an especially loud sneeze erupted from among Team Spica.
"Are you okay, Vodka?" Special Week asked, offering a handkerchief.
"Thanks." Vodka wiped her nose, slightly embarrassed. "No idea why that came out of nowhere."
"Someone must be talking about you," another teammate teased. "Think you've offended anyone lately?"
"I haven't! I'm not like Tachyon-senpai—always causing trouble whenever she suddenly visits!" Vodka shot back defensively.
Their bickering began to swell, but Shuta An tuned it out, refocusing on the race.
On the screen, Mejiro Dober had already slipped past ShinkoEdward.
Still seven lengths behind the leader—AirSmap.
But her rhythm remained unbroken.
From the moment the field settled into rhythm, Shuta An could see it clearly—Mejiro Dober was not yet ready to unleash her sprint. Relief loosened the tension in his shoulders.
'Don't get carried away just because the rhythm feels good, he warned silently. Don't burn it too early.'
During his advanced training, he had analyzed countless debut races. The most common mistake among newly debuted Uma Musume was premature acceleration—mistaking comfort for timing, momentum for opportunity. The temptation to surge was strongest precisely when restraint mattered most.
Fortunately, Dober did not falter. Had she done so, he would have dissected the error mercilessly during the post-race review. But there would be no need for that—because she held herself back.
Miss Ramonu, too, exhaled faintly. She understood just as well what pitfalls awaited inexperienced runners. No matter how carefully seniors and Trainers lectured them beforehand, the roar of a packed racecourse could erase instruction in an instant.
Perhaps it was because she (Dober) had once stood amid the chaos of ComicMarket crowds—because she had faced noise and pressure before—Tokyo Racecourse, even on Yasuda Kinen day, did not overwhelm her once she entered race mode.
Composed. Focused.
Shuta An allowed himself a private thought. 'If she can perform this calmly here—overseas might won't shake her either.'
Miss Ramonu glanced at him, sensing calculation behind his silence. Whatever he was considering, she knew, was for Dober's sake. She returned her gaze to the screen.
—
On the track, Dober's forward positioning placed her neatly behind HollyWells. Once again, she enjoyed the slipstream, conserving stamina with clinical efficiency.
Stay like this until the final straight. Then move diagonally right, pull free, accelerate, sprint.
Her plan was already mapped out in her mind. Even though Air Smap had seized the lead mid-race, her stamina reserves were ample. There was no concern about whether she could launch a final burst.
But Air Smap was thinking, too.
'The Mejiro Family's young lady my Trainer warned me about—and she still hasn't charged. Is she a chase-type like Mejiro Bright?'
'Tokyo's long final straight favored closers. If I drift outward—interfere with her lane—my chances increase.'
The thought became action. Half a step outward.
Shuta An caught it immediately. "Is she preparing to block the acceleration path behind her?"
Ramonu shook her head slightly. "Wouldn't that ease pressure on the leaders behind? A front-runner normally wouldn't risk that."
Nishizaki Ryu narrowed his eyes. "Unless she considers Dober the primary threat. Pace-setters lay traps in their own ways."
"And only Air Smap has that margin right now," Shuta An replied evenly.
Tojo Hana nodded. "The others in the leading group are too focused on surviving her pace."
"This may be a debut race," Shuta An continued, "but the disparity is obvious. That's good. I don't want Dober overexerting herself this year chasing overly strong fields. Accumulate honors efficiently—then peak on next year's Triple Tiara route."
Nishizaki Ryu chuckled. "Shuta-kun's planning philosophy is certainly distinctive at Central Tracen—minimal starts, maximum impact."
"Watching Uma Musume give everything is moving," Shuta An said calmly, eyes fixed on Dober as she approached the final straight for the fourth time. "But it's dangerous. The more you race, the higher the injury risk. A gifted Uma Musume only has so many years in the Twinkle Series. I want them to release their talent on the stage that truly matters."
Then—
They turned into the final straight.
Dober noticed immediately: Air Smap had shifted further outside.
Trying to interfere? If I go inside, that opens space—and catches her off guard.
But to surge from the inside meant overtaking HollyWells and GailythePride first. From their backs alone, she could tell—their stamina was nearly exhausted.
Her eyes flicked behind her. The nearest pursuer remained three lengths back.
Then she made her move.
Feign outside acceleration. Her posture shifted as if preparing to swing wide and overtake from the outside. Predictably, GailythePride and HollyWells drifted outward together—And in that heartbeat of overcommitment, Mejiro Dober cut sharply to the inside.
Then she exploded.
The burst was so sudden, so violent in its sharpness, that the grandstand audiences gasped as one. She slipped past both opponents in a blink and locked onto Air Smap's flank.
"Whoa!" Taiki Shuttle leapt to her feet in the lounge. "That acceleration is razor-sharp!"
On the sidelines, voices broke into excited shouts. "Go, Dober-chan!"
Shuta An gripped the railing, knuckles whitening, gaze fixed unwaveringly on the figure surging down the straight.
Dober could not hear them.
But she knew.
He's watching.
Just like he always watches Senpais.
I cannot lose this race.
Air Smap sensed her too late. When Dober surged past on her left, there was nothing left to counter with.
"Mejiro Dober overtakes Air Smap! She's opened daylight instantly! Now in the lead—no signs of deceleration! One length! Two! Three!"
Inexperience made her cautious. She did not dare ease. Fear of being caught drove her to bury her head and pour everything forward, suppressing the rising tide of exhilaration.
She ran.
"Mejiro Dober crosses the finish line! Final 3F in 33.3 seconds! An astonishing closing burst!"
As the commentator's voice rang across the course, another murmur slipped quietly into Ramonu's hearing.
"She won by six lengths…didn't she?"
Ramonu turned, ready to confirm with a faint smile—But when she saw Shuta An's expression, the smile faded.
His face was solemn. As if that margin—those six lengths—meant something far heavier than simple victory.
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